


this is for back then

by bbyunnie



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble Collection, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbyunnie/pseuds/bbyunnie
Summary: he never got to thank her last time. a drabble series.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Pieck
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	1. it's just so damn natural.

he’s never had a girlfriend before. how he finally - somehow - managed to get the very girl who started off as his very, very beautiful friend who just so happened to be female, is beyond him. the line that separates friendship from courtship rides very thin with her. it always has. even as they claim to be “just friends” for the longest time, every action proves otherwise to their peers. with every interaction sprouts intrigue. gazes linger, personal space comes to a close. they are comfortable with each other, like an instantaneous connection between two naive children on the playground - it’s just so damn _natural._

pieck emerges from the bathroom, donned in one of his t-shirts, squeezing the remnants of water into a white towel; the fabric slips off her shoulder on one side, exposing her collarbone. if she’s wearing anything under that, it’s hard to tell. the very mystery makes heat rise to his cheeks.

“took you long enough,” jean teases, arms folded across his pectoral. “I would’ve came in to check on you.”

pieck hums, tilting her head at him. “too bad. I could’ve used the company.”

jean snorts. okay, so he’s most definitely blushing now, but so what? he has literally seen this girl naked and he’s still not over it. “c’mere,” his lips curve into a lopsided grin, the very one he knows she loves, arms reaching for her.

there is no hesitation.

pieck pads over to his bedside - it’s not that far a trek, but her cute little legs make it seem as such and, _fuck,_ it’s adorable - knees brushing first against the fabric of his comforter as she crawls over to him. he’s thinking she’ll tuck herself into his side, which he’s fine with, but when he finds his lap occupied and his lips busy he’s quick to succumb.


	2. say it again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said at 1am.

“what did you say?”

boy groans, face slowly dropping into open palm. “you’re going to make me repeat it, aren’t you?”

dark haired beauty smirks with head tilt that follows, cheek nestled by her own hand. he cannot lie to her, nor can he hide from her. those three little words have only ever been uttered by her father, with crinkled eyes and crooked smile, much like her own.

so when it befalls from jean’s lips, it comes off in a different light. ears perk up as words settle in the air between them, feels gaze against back of head. the way he speaks these words is almost sacred, tone strangely soft, breathless almost. like a secret that only she can know, a secret he has not whispered to a soul before her. it makes her heart race, makes falling eyelids lift with interest. she knows she couldn’t have misheard. what else would he have said? the goof.

“yes,” she hums. “say it.” his unoccupied hand remains half curled on the table, a temptation that she cannot resist. she leans, runs the pads of her fingers across his knuckles. “say it again.”

“you heard me.” he’s growing more flustered the longer she stares - no… _gazes_ at him. “wha? stop _looking_ at me like that.”

“you don’t like it when I look at you?”

“l-like _that,”_ he stumbles over his words and her smile widens. she has such an effortless beauty that it makes it hard for him to concentrate. he sees why boys like her so much. him falling for her just made him yet another that became infatuated under her spell.

“well, I like looking at you,” she tells him, tracing patterns across his skin, creating galaxies under her fingertips. “and I like talking to you. and… _kissing_ you, and…”

“are you really about to finish that sentence?” oh, he is _completely_ red now, and it is adorable.

“are you really this uncomfortable with me?” she wonders, pausing slightly.

he hesitates. “no. I just…”

“you just, what?”

“I just…don’t want to mess this up,” he confesses to her quietly, turns palm north to weave their fingers together. “that’s all.”

the hand that occupies her cheek falls to place atop his. “you won’t. I promise you won’t.”

he makes a sound of approval, grows quiet once more. this time she waits for him to speak. whatever that weighs on his mind, he’s finding a way to bring it to words. what follows after a long beat of mutual silence, however, she does not expect. “I do love you.”

she starts. “you what?”

“I love you.” the second time is bolder, quiet still. and pieck stares at him, unblinking, as his words finally resonate with her. she’s messed around and gotten this boy to fall in love with her. jean kirschstein just told her he _loved_ her. out of _all_ the eligible bachelorettes he had on this island.

chewing down on her bottom lip, a smile threatens to betray her controlled features as she comes to a stand. jean remains still, eyebrows drifting down as he appraises her, wonders what she is about to do next. circles around to where he sits, arms twine around neck as she settles into lap without breaking eye contact.

“now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” murmurs softly against his neck as she buries her face there, pressing self against his warmth.

“actually, that was _terrifying,”_ he whispers back, holding her just a little tighter.

“good.” head lifts, long enough until he peers down at her with baited breath, awaiting answer. “because I love you, too.”


	3. oh, hello there.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little birthday sugar.

  
the kiss he is greeted with nearly brings him to his knees. his hands are lost in raven colored tresses, eyebrows scrunched down; bends at the waist to accommodate for the other who falls shorter in height, the space between them almost nonexistent. they kiss slowly, deeply; heads move. unrushed.

he only moves to close the door behind them without losing pace. it’s getting warmer but nights here can get pretty brisk. he considers taking this further against the door, to pressing his body against theirs and creating a trail of hot kisses down a soft neck, but for the sake of comfort he’s fine with standing here. with an arm loosely scooped around petite waist, it does not take much of his strength for the other’s feet to leave the floor. it is kinda cute to him, but you probably wouldn’t catch him saying this out loud.

slender hands trail up pectoral as arms gradually rise, until they find their home around his neck, wrists crossing at the nape. a quiet giggle escapes pink lips, turns into a little shudder when he slips a hand beneath the hem to run up the spine. then down. breasts press against sternum, pushing inwards.

he releases a low hum. it goes on like this for some time.

when they part, it feels like it has been hours, whereas this more than likely stretched just over five or six minutes. she settles back down from her arch, yet he leans further, until his forehead brushes against hers. they speak, breathy.

“hey, beautiful.” gaze is lidded, expression softening when eye contact is made. she wears a cropped, long sleeved top and leg hugging jeans of the same color. with her arms up like this he has a nice view of her belly. not a trace of makeup spotted, not that she needs it, but by the smooth texture of her lips he has a feeling that she rubbed some chapstick or something on them shortly before she arrived.

she leans back to smile at him, brushes hair out of his eyes with a light flick of her fingers. “happy birthday.” then stretches up once more to kiss his nose.

“thank you.” her hands may drop to his forearms, but his remain cupped around each hip. he is not ready to let go of her just yet. “you didn’t tell me you were coming.” he would’ve been prepared. dressed better, instead of donning that one pair of sweats that does little to hide his d - ahem - from appraising eyes.

a shrug. “figured I didn’t have to at this point.”

she got him there. “that’s fair.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“cool.” hands rest atop the other set. he leans to steal another kiss and she puckers her lips, face tilting north to meet him. draws back, fingers lacing with hers between.


	4. shameless.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pieck falls behind putting on her gear and jean grows impatient.

she stands in front of the mirror, dressed in clothing that feels alien to her. there are several steps to this, she knows, and she’s dreading – sees the contraptions these devils call useful spread across the table before her, waiting. taunting her. head tilts, teeth nip the inside of soft, pink lips. raven takes her time as she zips herself in from the spine up, arches her back at her leisure for own benefit.

“having some trouble there?”

dark hues flicker to one’s reflection, sees the other standing there, watching. arms fold across broad chest, foot tucks behind lower calf. their eyes meet. she does not miss that the door, previously slightly ajar, is now shut.

“what, you’re gonna help me with my zipper?” playful. dangerous game, she treads.

he snorts. “you don’t look like you need it.”

pulling her hair back. “too bad.” she makes sure she does not break eye contact with him. not that she needed to put forth the effort, nor does she completely hate what she sees. he’s got some pretty eyes to look at. 

“you need to hurry up. we don’t have all day.”

“yes, sir.”

handsome features form a grimace. “please don’t call me that.”

“force of habit. try not to take it too personally.”

“trust me. I won’t.”

“I’m not counting on it.” she begins the next - multiple - steps, swift, yet midnight eyebrows scrunch, form crinkled mask across traditionally relaxed features as eyes appraise. sees how every buckle and strap are shaped, determines where it goes. moving with purpose. slender digits fumble a bit with uncertainty. he grows impatient.

“stop. you’re doing it wrong.” reaches her in three long strides, swatting her hands away. “didn’t anyone teach you how to fasten a damn buckle?”

“didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

“relax.“ the honey in his eyes darkens. she’s touched a nerve. "I’m not trying to get fresh with you.”

his knuckle brushes against the swell of her left breast as he fastens her in, across the bosom, slips expert fingers under each strap to make sure they are secure. she blinks. he clears his throat.

anyway.

“watch yourself.” voice low. heads a warning that falls soft on the tongue, yet his hands, so big, so strong she knows, so steady, leave a trail of flames in their wake. is this some kind of devil’s trick?

“yeah,” he grumbles. “that’s not too tight, is it?”

she wrinkles her nose, as if he’s emitting an odor, but the irony is he doesn’t smell all that bad? “I can still breathe, I guess.”

“it’s not supposed to be comfortable.”

she wonders if falco and gabi are alright. “I see.”

“you’ll get used to it.”

wonders if this world - this devil’s world - has been kind to them. “yeah.”

as kind as jean kirschstein had been to her.

**Author's Note:**

> reposting prompts from my tumblr. ♡ what should I write next?


End file.
